Gods Irony
by NightmareTroubador
Summary: A God is summoned, and he reflects on the situation of the King and Thief before him. One-shot.


**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, this is one Christmas present I won't be getting. **

**A/N: This has been sitting on my hard drive for a while, slowly being developed. I don't know what deep, dark strangely philosophical part of my mind it came from, but it was a cool colored plot bunny and had a dragon and the Thief King, so I went with it.**

**Warnings: Copious amounts of Egyptian mythology and spoilers for the AE arc, which you may need to know about a bit to fully appreciate this one-shot.**

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Lightning flashed from the sky, lighting up the blimp and the astonished occupants. The air crackled with an unseen power, almost divine in its presence. The cold wind seemed to whip stronger, howling like a bear about to strike. Down from the heavens, _he _descended, answering the call of a King.

The serpentine body quickly ensnared the blimp, muscles writhing and roiling underneath shining crimson scales. Large, draconic wings spread, unfurling into existence as a magnificently fierce head with dual mouths lowered toward the previously mentioned occupants. The main jaws opened, unleashing a fierce roar that shook the very heavens from whence _he _had come.

_His _appearance was certainly worthy of a God, and would've sent the mortals running for cover.

If they were assured it wasn't real.

Being simply a holographic recreation of _his _former glory did have its draw backs at times, but still the clearly stunned reactions of the mortals did provide some satisfaction. But what was more satisfying to _his _divine heart was the present duel in which _he_ had arrived.

The Pharaoh vs. the Thief King.

Oh the glory of finally serving the God-King as _he _did before, administering divine justice to the unholy defiler. Free from the clutches of the mad Tomb Keeper child, _he_ could return to_ his_ appointed duty as given to _him_ by the God he served, Wesir, Osiris, Judge of the Dead and Foremost of the Westerners.*

Now as _he_ took in the scene before _him,_ it became apparent that the Gods had given _him_ a chance to redeem _his_ honor, after 3,000 yrs. of waiting. The once glorious Thief King stood before him, fear clearing showing on his face. No longer did the Thief have his dark Ka to protect him, or innocent peasants with which to use as pawns in his murderous game.

However as _he_ hovered over the Sa Re* _he_ served, the once thief ordered a ghost forward to possess _him! _A mere spirit, a pathetic ghost possessing a God! Indeed the defiler was foolish, but even he should know better than to try something so blatantly doomed to failure. Indeed, the divine being would have to admit that the mortal was clever, in a cowardly sort of way. So why the sudden change…

Ahhh… Now _he _sees. The mad mortal had lost his memory just like_ his_ Master. Well perhaps not all, and certainly not with the same honor and self-sacrificing method that _his_ master, the Great Pharaoh had done. Pity… it made the irony of the situation less enjoyable if no one remembered. Better if the enemy remembered so the humiliation before the Gods was all the worse, than just the ignorance of losing this silly, modernized game.

Oh well… _he _remembered, and it will make _his _job that much more satisfying.

Now the young King gave his command. _He _obediently prepared for the attack, gathering the electric currents in the air and concentrating them into a mass of power that even puts the lightning feared by mortals for centuries to shame.

But just as the energy began to build, the King faltered, and a disturbance rippled through the air. It was like a throwing a stone into a lake, the ripples disfiguring the smooth surface and affecting the purity of the heka.

A man approaches from the sidelines, speaking vile words to the living Horus as the once mighty Thief King becomes a small, pale, and frightened boy. The young man's knees buckle as he slumps to the ground, holding his bleeding arm and moaning in pain. _He _pulls back _his _head, _his_ body coiling as _he_ raises _himself_ up slightly higher to view this new spectacle.

So, now instead of innocent bystanders, it is an innocent host. The mad defiler had not changed his ways after all, despite becoming more calculating and shrewd; he still played with the lives of others as if they were vile insects to be stepped on. Even the one so much like him, who could be a powerful ally and his savior if he allowed it. But no, he teams up with the mad tombkeeper child to bring down the king.

Speaking of the king, he looks torn. Indecision racks his small but regal frame; he must decide whether to grant mercy to the lowly boy and accept defeat or continue onward to victory. The divine being rumbles slightly in annoyance. As moving as the fate of the child is, there is a greater threat at hand. The king was always kind and merciful to his people, but even he still had the drive to claim victory at any cost, to sacrifice for the greater good. It seems the boy whose vessel he occupies has clouded his judgment. After all, the mortals of today were soft, pampered and weak compared the ones during the time of magic, kings, and thieves. Survival was ones greatest priority; you had to rely on your own wits and cunning, skill with a blade and the magic that permeated the air. Mercy was a rare luxury to come by in those days and people had to be hardy and gritty to make a living in the Black land that was a narrow strip of life in the sea of sand.

Time is ticking, and as the seconds stretch together like a newly made shenti, there comes another surge of ancient magic. It is dark like the heavens between the stars, cold and smooth, but still a glimmer of something more and undefinable…

_His _divine eyes widen slightly as the frail sacrifice disappears in flash of gold and magic, to be replaced by the Thief. The raving man challenges _his _Pharaoh, and tells him to attack. What sorcery is this? The raving coward would never comprehend the possibility of such a noble act, and yet here he is protecting his host. It was as ridiculous concept as Heru and Setekh putting aside their differences and drinking together merrily. It was blasphemous, and foolish wish, to think that this man whose heart was black as the void and soul was as empty of life as the burning desert, could suddenly show compassion and care like a mother protects her children.

But _he _has little time to ponder this act as _his _King orders the attack. Once more the divine power builds in his jaws, but now there is nothing to stop the snapping, crackling energy that glows like Ra at midday. _He _simply notes the mad man throw his arms and legs wide like he seeks to shield someone. His eyes glow bright with madness as laughter bubbles and explodes from his mouth. Truly his confinement in the Sacred Ring did little to help his already deteriorating mind.

But this moment, when the Thief mocks with his mad laughter, reminds the demi-god of what once was, as the defiler proudly stood defiant before the living Horus and his sacred priests. That man, all wild proud and untamed majesty is all but gone, twisted, molded and changed to something far colder and farm more contained. Whatever goodness was left in his soul that could possibly have been reached and rescued is gone, like water from a dried well.

This new insight matters little now, as the lightning pours from his mouth, flashing brilliantly and consuming the defiler. _He _returns to _his_ rest as a small boy collapses to the ground before a king.

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***Wesir is Osiris's real Egyptian name, and Sa Re means "son of Re." This was a title for the Pharaoh.**

**A/N: So you know, R&R. That's the best Christmas present you can give and its FREE! :D**


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